


Not Just You

by Latinuser



Category: Thomas Sanders, sanders - Fandom, sandersides, youtube - Fandom
Genre: Anxiety, Emotional, Emotional Hurt, Gen, Hurt, Princiety - Freeform, Sandersides - Freeform, Thomas - Freeform, prince - Freeform, roman - Freeform, sanders - Freeform, thomas sanders - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-23
Updated: 2017-07-23
Packaged: 2018-12-05 20:36:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11585727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Latinuser/pseuds/Latinuser
Summary: Roman and Virgil never saw eye to eye, though Roman's attitude never truly made sense ... Finally, after the admittance of his name and Virgil growing more self-confident in himself, Roman decided to try and speak with him on more amiable terms. The Prince however did not anticipate his own emotions going South so Fast.





	Not Just You

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so this a short story based off of the Youtuber/Once Viner Thomas Sanders and what he has called his "Sander Sides". Primarily the story focuses on Roman(Prince, otherwise known as Thomas' creativity,) and Virgil(Anxeity). The story starts about a week after Thomas Sanders video "Accepting Anxiety" Parts 1 & 2.

Despite the common belief, Roman Sanders, the **Prince** and _Hero_ to Thomas, did indeed have _doubts_. Doubts and anxieties which crept up in little ways through his actions and his words. Not that many of the sides seemed to notice –the Prince wasn’t called upon very often, after all—often leaving Roman seeming out of place in their colourful group.

 Or, so Roman noticed. The opening of his mouth to be met with a side-glance, from the others, a glare, lips pulling downward in a frown getting Roman’s teeth to click shut and lips to press firm together. The scattered looks left and right, waiting to say just the right thing until he couldn’t hold it in and _blustered through_ anyway.

This often led to discrepancies, Patton’s tense smiles or awkward shifting, Logan’s narrowed eyes or bewildered stares, even Thomas’ lifting of hands, attempting to mediate between all of their extremes to ease up into his one personality.

However, this was leaving out _one crucial_ part of Thomas’ personality.

One the befuddled Prince had only recently realized how _similar_ the two of them were in reality.

Anxiety.

Anxiety, otherwise now known as _Virgil_ , (a name he had never anticipated. It was such a cultured sounding name, a tad dorkier than he had anticipated for Hot Topic **TM** ) who discredited Roman so often, who pointed out the flaws in _every little thing_ he did. Anxiety, the nagging voice who would hang by his shoulder and sneer at Roman’s attempted contributions to Thomas’ day …

Anxiety, the one who could push Thomas to work a great deal faster than he could.

Anxiety, the one who got Thomas to go into the shower and wash himself as a form of procrastination, ending up helping Thomas take care of himself.

Anxiety, the one who encouraged sleeping, helped with the emotional stress through the day, understood when enough was enough and kicked in to get Thomas out of a conversation quicker, who –

Anxiety … the one who was more accepted as an asset to Thomas’ creativity, morality, and … self-care than Roman himself was.

Could one blame him for being _excited_ once Virgil had seemed to disappear? One of the first instances Thomas had even _spoken_ to Roman in the longest times had been trying to help him get _rid of_ his anxiety. It was a foe to face, a fear to quell, a person to save! And, while unbeknownst to Thomas at the time, an adversary (one threatening his place) to overcome.

Roman would _never_ call it jealousy! No, jealousy was too _foul_ a word for such vicious feelings, too _abhorrent_. No, it was a mild dislike, distrust, and unsettling irritation that rested in the pit of his stomach whenever he was around Anxiety.

That was all. Nothing else. Nada. Zilch. Zip. _Nothing_.

His own looks to the other halves of Thomas’ personalities, silently begging for their encouragement. Their _agreement_ with him … and yet, when it came to _Anxiety_ , Roman was slowly torn further and further down.

Not until their escapades into Anxiety’s mind space did Roman _realize_ his importance. The frustrating helplessness. A _knot_ twisting in his chest, the quickening breath, flem in his throat he simply _could not_ swallow past. Roman tried, as hard as he could to ignore it. Using colorful words, quick dismissing what he _obviously felt_. A feeling he did not wish to admit, but one he knew a bit more well than the others.

Once Anxiety helped Thomas, again, Prince felt proud.

But, with pride came the fall. The silent wondering. The shut downs that not only Logic, but Patton and Thomas had also gone through with. Silencing Roman and getting him to back off.

So, with shuffling feet, and in a time Roman was _certain_ there would be no spotlight on them, did he go back into the dank cave.

“I’m _not_ giving you my dank posters.”

Virgil’s voice rang clear as he was sitting on the elongated leather couch, headphones resting around his neck, **My Chemical Romance** blaring just loud enough to hear through the poor, abused speaker system. An iPad rested in his lap, a book, the dark, night-font used for the environment around him (as well as aesthetic purposes) pulled up that he was reading.

Prince took a moment’s pause. He needed … to _not_ be antagonistic here. “That is not why I’m here.” A glance upwards, dark eyeliner framing a deathly pale skin complexion seemed disbelieving, “Really! Though I do find it lovely decorum and would be _more than_ charmed to take it from you at some point, I am currently on a more … _amiable_ mission.”

Looking back down to his iPad, Virgil flicked a finger across the screen. Dark brown eyes scanning text haphazardly. “Oh really? Well I wouldn’t stay in here then if you want to stay _amiable_.”

“Then perhaps you would like to accompany me to my lodgings instead!”

“…what?”

Prince took a deep breath.

“My mind space. Since coming here heightens my … er … _feelings_ , then I figure coming to _my_ mind space might make _you_ more wanting to hear out my ideas!” Roman’s voice was chipper. He could feel the anxiety seeping in his skin already, however. A tight knot building in his chest and in his throat.

Why did he have phrase it like that?

It was all wrong, wasn’t it?

Virgil was staring at Roman with a puzzled, quizzical look. Uncertain if he really ought to believe what he heard. Flicking up on the iPad, turning the volume down as his headphones quieted. “You,” Anxiety spoke slowly, enunciating _clearly_ so the Prince could hear this absurd idea, “Want _me_ to go into _your mind space_. As-in, the most _private_ place you have that you have only let _logic_ into to help collaborate on videos.”

Saying it like that made Roman’s heart _stop_. Stupid, it was stupid, so stupid. He should have known better than to assume, of course he should have just ignored this. _Not_ tried to sympathize or pushed past these thoughts of –

“Yes.”

Pulling his headphones out of the iPad, Anxiety gave a small groan, but stood anyway. “Fine, okay, whatever. I don’t have anything better to do today.”

It took almost _everything_ Roman had to not let out a sigh of blissful relief. Acceptance …

Funny … It felt like _forever_ since he had full heartedly earned it

No. _No_. Do not go down that rabbit hole. He knew where it was going, and they were still in Anxieties room. If he kept thinking this way, he might end up sinking Thomas into a pit of self-loathing depression by accident _himself_. “Ah! Yes … er-hm.” He didn’t need to be _more_ ‘helpful’, did he?

Holding out a hand to Virgil, the goth took it. Cold and clammy –like that of a dead hag—Prince’s mind wandered a tad aimlessly, before they reached it.

The place looked like Thomas’ bedroom, but there were several pieces of Disney memorabilia and a much _warmer_ décor. Rich reds, warm golds, and soft browns lit the room. Anxiety didn’t seem much impressed. “I thought you’d make it that forest outside of the house.” Was the idle comment, dull and nearly monotone.

Roman could not help the _huff_ that followed such a statement. “And I expected your room to the be the attic filled with cobwebs, spiders, and nothing but a cot and some water, befitting someone of your … well. _You_.”

“Thanks so much. _Really_ making me not regret coming here.”

“Ugh. It’s just. Creativity requires a clean space, a warm environment, and –occasionally yes—some adventure. The bed is comfortable, relaxing, and the easiest to concentrate …”  The prince had turned to rambling at that point. Virgil deciding to crawl onto the bed and make himself comfortable.

Freeing sheets from their tucked in stature, he wrapped himself up tightly into a cocoon before going back to listening to the romantics continued speech. “… And _further more_ you also need a clean work space to feel healthy! Combined with the fact that the outdoors are only a step away I really do not feel as if I am too far off from what my room ought to be!”

“Sure, Princey, sure. Now, why am I here again?”

Swallowing thickly, Roman swayed on his feet for a moment, before walking over. “I have been thinking on what you said about a week back.”

“Oh god no.”

“About … _retiring_ your position.”

“Listen, I’m already back and one of you guys so you don’t have to—“

“I just wanted to say I understand.”

The silence that followed Roman’s words was deafening. Sitting down besides Virgil, Roman didn’t _dare_ look up to meet his eyes. Hands settled uncomfortably at his arms, a finger trailing the insides of his arm uncertainly before settling more on his wrist. Rubbing at his pulse.

After a while of silence, Anxiety finally spoke up.

“You’re joking right?”

It took a lot for Roman to not snap at Virgil. _Why_ would he joke about this? Honey eyes stare _down_ at his hands quietly.

“You’ve got to be joking.” Virgil insisted, “Princey. The shining light of creativity and egotism that Thomas has understands _me_. Understands _not belonging_ in that little three-man-show of yours that keeps away from all the other sides generally.”

Each biting statement made the creative’s shoulders want to tense, his hackles raise in defense, but he couldn’t get himself to snap. Instead he let out a breathy _sigh_.

It was likely the lingering effects of Anxieties room.

“No.” Prince answered, “I am not joking.”

A barked, bitter laugh fell from Virgil’s lips. A grin from ear to ear as he leaned back. “Oooh, this is rich! His ego gets bunt one degree and he’s telling me _he understands_.”

“Anxiety…“

“He thinks he gets it. Being demonized and told he’s _wrong_ every chance he gets. That _he’s_ the bad guy. Argued to the point of supposed non-existence, attempting to help and ignored,”

“… _Anxiety_ …”

“And then, when it’s only _convienent_ for the rest of the group, do they come _crawling back_ , wishing for good ol’ Anxiet—“

“ **Virgil!** ” Virgil’s teeth automatically click shut in silence.

Roman’s fingers are gripping the cloth of his pants so tightly they’re turning white. He’s shaking now and it hurts. Dammit it has to be from going into Anxieties mind space. He should have known that was a stupid idea! He’s back where he belongs, but it feels _alien_ to him now. Everything doesn’t seem right, nothing was correct, everything was feeling farther and farther away.

And he was just so … _stupid_.

“Since we first met. I did not like you. It is unsurprising, you are, in essence, a being made to cause fears and insecurities, you also help contribute towards his procrastination which puts a stickler to anything I want to do. No creative energies, draining emotions, negativity, snide commentary that results in hurting other people’s feelings—“

“—I feel so loved, now—“

“—but it’s _not_ just that. You did things _better_ than me. Thomas _always_ had you. Always. I’m fleeting, even when I attempt to be there, he often dismisses me for Patton or Logan or … well, _you_. You drive him towards goals, and ideals from, well, sure fear of the unknown and failure, but it motivates him! And I …”

He had to wonder.

If Thomas’ _creativity_ vanished … would it really make that much of a difference?

The other sides could most certainly step in, and then, of course, was Anxiety pushing Thomas to keep performing and working, and Logan and Morality along with him.

From what Roman could understand and see. His disappearance … wouldn’t make a difference.

“… I do not seem to make half the dent you all do. Thomas has spoken to me a handful of times, but the majority have been about _you_. Working _beyond_ you. I could not think of a single _entirely unique_ idea, and then, on top of that, when I speak my opinions, the others just discredit me.” As if _they_ knew exactly what he should or should not believe. _Roman_ didn’t even know what he should or should not believe.

“…Princey, I …”

“I _still_ don’t like you! Because I do not _get_ you, or Logan, or Patton, or any of the others! There is a reason we three _made_ this little ‘circle’ in the first place, after all. Then you come in and push your way forward and it just. I am not … _useful_ anymore.”

Another silence, more tense than the last settled around them both. Virgil staring at Roman. What could he say? Part of him feared speaking at all. Roman had just admitted a _lot_ of things on the table right there, and Virgil wasn’t … too good with this whole, admitting thing.

He much preferred getting seen as ‘the villain’ of the story and being picked on by Roman to this.

Even while Virgil would admit the soft encouragement now and again would be nice. This was a whole new ball game with its own set of rules. One Virgil wasn’t used to playing quite yet.

So he’d default after an uncomfortably long silence.

“Guess you could say, the _Prince_ has got _Anxiety_ , huh?”

A bristling followed.

Roman was trying to be earnest. To be taken _seriously_.

“Out.”

Virgil blanks from his little pile under the blanket. “Wait, what?”

“Get out of my room.” Roman is now standing and pointing at the floor. He looks deadly serious.

“I was just trying to make a joke …”

“And I am not. Be gone from me, _now_.”

Virgil doesn’t take much time more to sink down, disappearing from Roman’s room and land on a soft, cloth couch and groan loudly. Back in Thomas’ world, away from his comfy staircase, Anxiety rubs a hand over his forehead and through his bangs with a grimace. Uncertain where he went wrong, and not understanding _why_ Roman had reacted so badly.

“It was just a joke …” Virgil grumbled.

“What was a joke, kiddo?” Patton piped brightly, a surprising tray of cookies being pulled from the oven. “Oh, did I miss something big? You’ve got to tell me, there’s nothing I want to miss from this big ol’ kooky family!”


End file.
